


Eclipse

by Senza_pieta



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bullying, Canon Backstory, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, more angst than fluff, possible multichapter, this is not a nice story, tsukkiyamafest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 11:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3288122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senza_pieta/pseuds/Senza_pieta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i noticed bunch've people writing cute tsukkiyama fics 4 tuskkiyamafest</p><p>and then there's this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eclipse

Yamaguchi listens blankly, his one hand gripping loosely on the music player.

 

_You were touching my arm,  
We walked in the afternoon, on the sidewalk..._

 

Yamaguchi listens blankly.

It’s not this line he’s listening for. It's the next one.

 

_[?-?-?],_  
 _One year after the day–_

 

That was it.

Yamaguchi frowns, ignoring whatever lyrics come after. He tries to tune it out. His fingers drift to the row of buttons at the center.

Rewind. One of his fingers over a button on the pad. Something grainy smears against the plastic. He holds the button. One second. Two seconds.

Yamaguchi is ten years old.

 

_...–n the afternoon, on the sidewalk,_  
 _[?-?-?],_  
 _One year af–_

 

That was it. Pause.

Concentrating, Yamaguchi tries to hold onto the question marks in his mind, even as they slip out like sand.

 _Something_...he can’t remember. Question. Question. Question.

Rewind.

 

_–the sidewalk,_  
 _[?-?-?],_  
 _One year–_

 

'Something-something-something.' He can’t figure it out. Yamaguchi sighs, feels it hurt distantly to exhale in a stitch in his side. It’s bothering him, now, that he can’t figure out the mystery lyrics in the song. The words he doesn’t know are in English, which he doesn’t speak at all. He’s terrible at it. But Yamaguchi just wants to hear them clearly enough to sing along—even if he doesn’t understand the meaning.

Rewind. One second. He doesn’t hit Play yet. Yamaguchi frowns.

The tiny screen in his hand blurs to an outline, dim against the fabric of his pants. He can’t really see it.

He moves his finger for the Play button anyway. He doesn’t need to look to know where it is.

 

_–n the sidewalk,_  
 _[?-?-?]_  
 _O–_

 

The device still looks blurry in his hand. Yamaguchi can’t make out the buttons individually anymore, can barely even tell where the circles are. He finds this doesn’t bother him. It makes him want to smile, in fact—Yamaguchi’s only had Tsukki’s old music player for a day since the other boy got a new phone with MP3 listening built in. But he already has the button layout memorized.

...Yamaguchi’s head _really_ hurts. He breathes in deep once, winces, then breathes out again with his eyes fluttering closed.

His fingers are shaking. He thumbs for the playback button. Rewind...

 

_...–the afternoon, on the sidewalk,_  
 _[?-?-?],_  
 _One year after the day, when I let you..._

 

This time, the music continues to play. Yamaguchi’s trying to think, to freeze the sound of the lyrics in his mind. He can’t. For a pop artist, the singer’s pronunciation is pretty clear in Japanese, Yamaguchi thinks: the gaps in the song are only what’s in English, and he doesn’t know how to contextualize what he’s hearing at all. It’s frustrating. It makes him want to cry.

Irritated, he pauses the song. He tries again to focus on.

But, with the cheap foam headphones on his ears buzzing and silent, Yamaguchi finds he can’t repeat any of the mystery words back. He can’t even sound them out by imitation, because he doesn’t remember what they sounded like. His head feels blank when he tries to think. His stomach hurts.

Rewind. Play.

 

...– _the sidewalk,  
[?-?–]_

 

“S...igh. Sigh-bai.” Rewind.

 

_...[?-?–]_

 

“Sigh bai?”

Rewind.

 

 _...[?-?-?_ – _]_

 

“Sigh bai...sigh. Sigh bai sigh-eh.”

Rewind. Five seconds. His head hurts worse now, after trying to talk.

Yamaguchi's finger hovers on the button, feeling grains of dirt trapped between the skin and the plastic he’s holding. This time, he doesn’t hit play.

Yamaguchi is crying.

* * *

 

 

_You were touching my arm,_  
 _We walked in the afternoon on the sidewalk,_  
 _[Side by side],_  
 _One year after the day, when I let you follow behind,_  
 _One year after the day, when I let you follow behind..._  
 _(Follow, follow, follow me)_  
 _You were together with me,_  
 _I said you’d be here, I’d let you follow behind,_  
 _Be there at the station, I love you forever_  
 _You'll say it out loud when you want to,_  
 _I know I’ll love you, you and I together,_  
 _Always on my mind, you’re always on the sidewalk,_  
 _Do you think I’d forget you?_

 

.

 

.

 

.

* * *

 

 The same song has been on repeat for nearly forty minutes when Tsukishima finally arrives.

Yamaguchi doesn’t register, at first, that anyone has approached. He’s sitting, with his back laid flat against the concrete wall behind him, stiff and upright, legs splayed and unmoving where it hurts least.

He doesn’t recall exactly how long he’s been here. He doesn’t really remember what he’s doing here, just that the other boys had been here but then stopped and left at some point, when the sun was in a different place in the sky.

Suddenly, there’s a very tall Tsukishima hovering over him in a crouch. He hasn’t said anything, but Yamaguchi recognizes who it is by a glint of amber eyes boring intently into his.

“Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi’s barely registered Tsukishima’s here, but already his mouth is instinctively smiling in response to that voice—the movement breaks off prematurely, twisting to a wince of pain when his split lip stings badly and threatens to reopen. There’s an awful taste of blood, lingering faintly in his mouth.

“Tsuk–” Yamaguchi coughs out, his throat too dry to talk. The slight motion is enough to make his head throb, and his right side lance with pain. His vision swims worse than before and doesn’t stop, so he can’t see Tsukishima’s eyes even when the moment of dizziness passes.

Everything hurts. Yamaguchi’s eyes water, and he forces them closed so Tsukishima won’t see him crying.

“Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima sounds very close, this time, face hovering near Yamaguchi’s and making his breath hitch in surprise. “What the hell happened to you? I’ve been looking all over.”

Yamaguchi can’t remember. He doesn’t feel like talking, but... “ _Tsukki_ ,” he tries again, whimpering. His whole body shivers with a cold he doesn’t remember feeling.

His own voice is plaintive in his ears. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, his face burns. Yamaguchi’s glad to be sheltered like this behind his own eyelids; he’s glad he can’t watch Tsukishima seeing him in such a state. Yamaguchi, being whimpering and sad, a crybaby every bit as pitiful as those bullies had said.

...Pathetic...

Time is moving slowly for him, but in reality, only seconds have passed. Tsukishima shifts, movements careful and deliberate. He settles on the ground by Yamaguchi on his knees with his backpack laid down flat beside them.

“Yamaguchi. What happened?” Tsukishima asks.

There’s something odd in his voice, which Yamaguchi hears. A note that’s flat (but not uncaring?) and unfamiliar. And Yamaguchi’s suddenly very, extremely upset that he can’t recognize it. He should know what Tsukishima's feeling like.

Then he realizes too late he has no idea what Tsukki even asked.

“S-Sorry. _Sorry_ , Tsukki,” he manages to choke out.

There's a shift in Tsukishima's posture.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi shuts up.

He’s shivering. Unable to do anything else, Yamaguchi relaxes against the concrete wall with his eyes closed again as Tsukishima moves somewhere in the space before him. A zipper is being pulled, and Tsukishima rifles through his backpack. Yamaguchi hears the sound of clicking buttons like a text message and the sound of a terse sigh, the one that means Tsukishima isn’t happy.

Then, the other boy’s focus is back on him. “Open your eyes,” he says loudly.

The sharp tone in his voice makes Yamaguchi obey at once. His blurry eyes snap open, and he blinks tears hastily away, trying to see more than the outline of his friend in front of him. But his vision doesn’t clear.

“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi squints, reaching out with a shaking hand to wave in the space so he can try and figure out how far away he is.

It turns out he doesn’t have to, though. Because as soon as Tsukishima sees Yamaguchi’s eyes are open, he leans in, with an expression Yamaguchi doesn’t think he could read even if his eyes were working.

“Who did this to you?” Tsukishima demands tersely. He peers into Yamaguchi’s dilated pupils, lets his fingertips brush against the cold sweat on Yamaguchi’s forehead. They linger for a few moments after.

Yamaguchi shivers. For a bewildered moment, he hasn’t got the faintest idea what Tsukishima’s talking about. “Tsu–” he starts, voice faint.

But then. It does, it _sort of_ comes back to him—bits and pieces, anyway. The attack earlier, when he’d been walking home. Someone shoving Yamaguchi to the ground, taking him by surprise while he's distracted; knocking the blaring headphones off his ears before he even knows what happened. Laughter from above. Familiar. He's scared. Counting, how many of the neighborhood boys from class, the number he’d have to beg or outrun to get away. Taunts regarding Tsukishima’s hand-me-down music player. Do you like him or something?

The split-second flash, of a silhouette framed against the sun: too fast to act, but it’s enough to see the shape. No time left before the bat swings down and Yamaguchi’s entire world turns to pain.

Shouts. Receding. Listening dully, to them and then to the same three cheesy love songs played on repeat for over an hour, because Yamaguchi’s concussed and he can’t move. Wondering if anyone will even notice, if he’s not home before nightfall.

His head still hurts. Even now. He’s bleeding. Belatedly, Yamaguchi realizes he knew this the entire time.

Pathetic.

But Tsukki came for him.

He opens his mouth. “Tsukki,” he stammers, intending to apologize. For making the other boy come all this way. Just to find him.

“Can...you listen to something for me? I don’t understand the English, and...”

And Tsukki’s English is better than his, Yamaguchi thinks dimly as he holds up the device that Tsukki gave him.

Tsukki is better than him.

There's a sharp inhale. It’s hard to see anything.

But, even with his eyesight blurred from pain and tears, Yamaguchi swears in the next moment he can watch Tsukishima’s expression soften, slowly reaching out to take the music player from Yamaguchi’s hand.

“There’s only three English words in the entire song, Yamaguchi,” Tsukki explains quietly without looking at it, already beginning to gather Yamaguchi’s scattered things. Yamaguchi clings to the sound of his voice. “The same lyric, they keep repeating over and over. Like any other cheesy love song.”

Yamaguchi has never had a friend before. "What is it?" he asks stupidly.

Tsukishima maybe-smiles. He says the words in English. “It means ‘side by side,’” he then adds, leaning down to gently hoist up Yamaguchi off the ground.

Yamaguchi’s head swims. His stomach lurching. He thinks he might be crying, or about to throw up. He already did about an hour ago. He resolves not to do it on Tsukki’s clothes, he can keep his mouth closed until then. “O-Okay,” he says.

And: “Thanks, Tsukki.”

"Let's go."

(He means it, too. Because after that night, Tsukishima stays with Yamaguchi, the entire walk back to his home from school every day.)

**Author's Note:**

> i dont know if im want 2 write more??  
> let me know in the coments if u want....
> 
> (not posted on tumblr be/c don't have it, sorry)


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